


Count It Up

by withthekeyisking



Series: Romin Week Fics [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Cock Rings, Corporate Espionage, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Hurt Jason Todd, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Roman Sionis is a Bastard, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 13:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: Jason hates Roman Sionis with everything he is. If he had his way, he'd knock the man's teeth in and call it a day.But he loves Bruce and Robin more than he hates Roman. Enough to let the man do whatever he wants.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Series: Romin Week Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209413
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge, Romin Week 2021





	Count It Up

**Author's Note:**

> Had a really busy day so I didn't get to post this until now, but I hope it's worth the wait!
> 
> Day 2: Corporate/Office Setting | Drugged | **Blackmail**

Jason's leg bounces nervously, hands clenched tightly together in his lap. He can feel Ms. Martin, Bruce's assistant, glance at him for the fifth time since he sat down, but he pretends he doesn't. Because if he does they're going to lock eyes and Jason is going to freeze and he's going to blurt out what's going on and then it will all be over, it will all _over_ for him and he—he can't—

He keeps his eyes locked on the floor, counting the red boxes in the weird, geometric pattern that decorates the rug. It helps him focus a little, but he can barely make it past ten before his anxiety rises again and smashes his concentration to pieces, reminding him of why he's here and what's happening and what's waiting for him when he leaves.

The door to Bruce's office opens, and voices filter out. Jason doesn't look up, but he hears Bruce's laugh, and the familiar tones of Lucius' voice. There are footsteps, Lucius calls a greeting out to Jason which he mumbles in reply to, and then a pair of feet stop right in front of Jason, just inside his field of vision.

Bruce crouches down, and Jason takes a deep breath before forcing himself to lift his head and meet his d—guardian's gaze. He tries to seem fine, like everything's okay. Like his world isn't so close to crumbling at the seams.

It's pointless, because Bruce is _Bruce_ and he always can tell when Jason's lying, when something's wrong. He always knows everything.

Well, no, that's not true. That's been _proven_ untrue recently. Bruce doesn't have a goddamn clue what's going on, not at all. The _World's Greatest Detective_ is completely in the dark. He doesn't know what's going on. He's _useless_ to help Jason.

Not that Jason wants his help. No, he doesn't want Bruce to know what's going on. That's the whole fucking _point,_ after all. That's the whole fucking point. Bruce can't know. He just. He can't know.

"You alright?" Bruce asks, cocking his head. He clearly knows the answer is _no,_ but when Jason nods and says he's fucking _fine,_ Bruce only presses his lips into a thin line and gets back to his feet.

Relief and despair. Jason swallows them both down.

"Okay," Bruce agrees evenly. "Then what's up, Jay? I didn't forget you were supposed to come here after school, did I?"

They both know he didn't. "No," Jason says. "Just wanted..." He shrugs a shoulder disjointedly. "I dunno, thought we could get lunch, or whatever."

He sees Bruce smile, the small, private one he only uses with Alfred and Dick and Clark and _Jason._ The one that usually makes Jason want to grin in response, makes stupid butterflies fly around in his chest. Now it just makes him slightly nauseous.

"Sounds good to me, Jaylad. Where do you want to go?"

Jason tries to not look panicked. This is all fine. He's fine. Everything's normal. "Can we eat here? I don't feel like going out."

Bruce doesn't even bat an eye, simply nods. "Why don't you wait in my office and I'll place an order for the two of us?"

Jason's chest lurches, and he nods stiffly, getting to his feet. He shuffles awkwardly past his guardian, crossing the distance of the hall to the waiting office.

He swallows anxiously, glancing behind himself. Bruce is talking to Ms. Martin, not paying any attention, and Jason carefully pushes the door shut a bit more, enough to hide a majority of the room from view but not make it look like he purposefully closed the door.

Then he rushes over to Bruce's desk, fumbling in his pocket for the waiting USB drive. He almost drops it as he steps up to the computer, and curses himself, eyes darting up to the cracked door fearfully, as if Bruce will sense his deception and come rushing in to see what Jason's doing.

He jams the end of the USB into the port on the computer, and then counts in his head, heart pounding with anxiety.

_Ten seconds, baby. Push it in, wait ten seconds, and then pull it out. You can do that, can't you? Ten Mississippis._

It's a fucking lifetime. Ten seconds doesn't sound like a long time, but it sure as hell feels like it when you're standing in your adoptive father's expensive office plugging something illegal into his company's computer on the orders of someone who hates him.

He strains his ears, trying to hear if Bruce is approaching. If he's going to be found out. If Bruce is going to force him to say what he's doing, what's happened, what's _been happening_ for the last month. What would happen then? Would Bruce scream at him? Call him disgusting? Have him arrested?

Jason shudders and closes his eyes, trying to not think about it anymore. It's gonna be fine. Bruce isn't going to come in. Ten is gonna hit, and Jason is gonna remove the drive, and Bruce is never going to know what happened.

_...Nine Mississippis, ten Mississippis._

He yanks the drive out of the computer port and shoves the device back into his pocket, then moves quickly around the desk to sit in the waiting chair, slumping down in it and trying to look like he's been there the whole time. Just a kid hanging out. Nothing wrong here, nothing out of the ordinary.

By the time Bruce enters the office, armed with a warm smile and a question about Jason's day, Jason's managed to slow his heart to something calmer. But the nausea doesn't go away for quite a while longer.

* * *

It happens for the first time at a gala.

Jason isn't a fan of these events. They're boring and stuffy and filled with annoying rich people who spend the whole time looking at Jason like he's a science experiment or a charity case, and saying things that are said like compliments but sound like insults. Bruce tells him that Dick hated a lot of the parties too, but that they're necessary and they just have to put up with them for a few hours.

So, Jason puts up with all the galas Bruce drags him to. He handles it, especially since Bruce usually lets him stay out longer on patrol on gala nights, if he behaves well.

All these rich people tend to blur together for Jason, enough so that he doesn't bother to really notice who they are when So-And-So stops Jason to talk to him about this or that. He's expecting this man to be the same, when he feels someone approaching where he's taking a break near the doors to the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze that's coming in through the cracked doors.

"Always told you that you clean up nice, hm?"

The voice turns Jason's blood to ice. He knows that voice, but that voice shouldn't be _here,_ this is _Bruce's_ world and Bruce's world is _safe._ Galas are annoying but they're not _dangerous,_ they're not—not—

He turns, the world feeling slow motion like a horror movie, not even breathing as he turns wide eyes on—

Blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp jaw, mean smirk. It's Roman. Roman, looking exactly the same way he did eight months ago, the last time Jason saw him. He doesn't look surprised to see Jason. He looks—smug, pleased, so in control, so dangerous, and Jason just—he—

Jason deals with dangerous people every night as Robin. But _this_ kind of dangerous—he was supposed to have left it behind. Bruce took him in, and all of that was _done._ No more people like Roman showing up and _taking_ from Jason. _Using_ Jason.

"What are you doing here?" Jason says boldly, trying to look unaffected, unbothered. Roman smirks at the attempt, condescending.

"I was _invited,"_ Roma drawls. "And I belong in a place like this far more than _you_ do, street whore."

Jason flinches, not ready. People call him variations of _street trash_ all the time, but usually not to his face. Usually not a powerful man. Usually not someone who knows what they're talking about. And definitely never _whore._

His eyes dart around the room, seeking out Bruce. His guardian is near the bar, chatting with his date and someone who's running for mayor. Nowhere close to Jason and _Roman,_ Roman who shouldn't be here, who should be in Crime Alley paying other little boys to cry around his cock.

"I should follow Wayne's lead," Roman muses, and Jason's eyes snap back over to him. "Get myself a live-in slut like you. Don't have to go through the hassle of going down into the Alley for a fuck, just have you right down the hall when I want you."

Jason snarls at him. "Bruce is a thousand times better than you."

Roman smirks, cocking a brow. "So he hasn't touched you yet? Oh, no, he doesn't know at _all,_ does he?" Jason fights the urge to shift uncomfortably. Roman clicks his tongue. "So you're a _liar_ as well as a whore, then."

Jason bristles. "I'm _not—"_

"Deceiving the nice Bruce Wayne about whom he's accepted into his home. What would he think, if he knew the truth? What would he do? That seems like knowledge he deserves to have. Knowledge _everyone_ deserves to have, don't you think?"

"Don't—" Jason says before he means to, and the curses himself, hating the way Roman's smile grows.

"Aw. Sore spot, huh? Don't worry, baby, I'll keep your secret. If you make it worth my while."

Lead settles in Jason's gut, heavy and uncomfortable and daunting. He knows what Roman means, how could he not? He's not being subtle, isn't trying to be. He wants—he _wants_ things from Jason in exchange for keeping his mouth shut about what Jason used to be.

Jason suppresses a shudder. He thought he'd left behind the times where he had to exchange his body for things. He thought he left people like Roman behind.

"Fine," Jason mutters, looking down at the ground. "Fine, okay. Just don't...don't tell anyone."

Roman's hand, heavy and warm and familiar, lands on Jason's shoulder and squeezes. "Don't worry, baby. I can keep a secret."

* * *

It started with just sex.

A fuck here and there, a bit of humiliation to really get the bastard off and make Jason feel awful. And Roman never said a word, never hinted at anything untoward when they were around other people. Just had Jason come to his penthouse after school sometimes, or cornered him at some party or another.

It was all...horrible, but Jason could handle it. Because it was worth it. He didn't want to lose the life he'd managed to get for himself. Living with Bruce, going to Gotham Academy, being Robin—he'd do anything to keep it all. He'd do anything to not get tossed out for what he used to do.

He knows Bruce is a good man. He knows, after living with the guy for almost ten months, that Bruce is genuinely a good man. But there's still...there's still that _what if._ There's still that _what if when he learns I'm a whore, he doesn't want me anymore?_ Or _what if when he learns I'm a whore, he **wants** me?_

Jason can't risk any of it. He just can't. The status quo is good. He can't let anything—or any _one_ —shift it.

It's a month into the... _arrangement_ that Roman comes to him with another demand.

He wants information from Wayne Enterprises. He wants info from WE, and he wants Jason to get it for him. In exchange for not telling the world he's a whore.

He explains this all in clear, offhand words as he fucks his cock in and out of Jason's throat, fingertips dragging across his cheeks and over his lips. He lays the entire plan out, shows Jason the USB, tells him exactly what to do. Ten seconds, and then you're done, he says. Ten seconds and then you bring it to me, and the world won't know you're a greedy little slut.

So Jason does it. He takes the USB and he plugs it into Bruce's computer and he counts to ten and then after he manages to sit through lunch with Bruce he goes to Roman.

Roman, who is _Roman Sionis,_ AKA one of the richest men in Gotham and a business rival of Bruce's. A horrible, terrible, _evil_ man who likes fucking kids and then using them to get ahead financially.

Bastard. Fucking _bastard._

But still, Jason goes. He has to.

Roman's in his office when Jason arrives at the man's penthouse. One of Roman's guards guides him there with an unyielding hand on his shoulder and doesn't leave until Roman flicks a hand to dismiss him.

"Hello, Jason," Roman greets pleasantly, like they're old friends, but still with that awful smirk on his face. "How good to see you."

Then he holds out his hand.

Jason shuffles forward stiffly, digging the USB out of his pocket and then handing it to the man, feeling like he's crossing a line he can't come back from as he does it.

He goes to draw back, but Roman grabs his wrist to stop him, holding him in place as he plugs the USB into his own computer and opens up a complicated-looking program, eyes sharp as he examines line after line of code.

"Beautiful," Roman murmurs, leaning forward in his seat. Jason is forced a step closer by the grip on his wrist. "Oh, _yes._ Absolutely beautiful."

Silence falls for a few minutes, during which Jason tries to not shift awkwardly or think about how he's betraying Bruce. How he just helped an enemy see something about Wayne Enterprises he shouldn't be seeing.

Eventually, Roman closes everything down and turns to look at him with a pleased look on his face.

"Good job, Jason," Roman praises. "I will admit, I didn't know if you had it in you to go this far. Consider me impressed."

Jason's stomach churns. He doesn't want Roman to be impressed. He doesn't want the man to say or think anything good about him at all. He just wants him to leave him _alone._

Roman finally releases his wrist, leaning back in his large desk chair and threading his fingers together, examining Jason like a cat might a caught bird.

"What?" Jason snaps after a minute, uncomfortable.

Roman smiles, the expression almost indulgent. "Always so abrasive. Alright, Jason, if you'd like to get to the point—strip."

Jason tastes something sour, but he does as he's told, removing his Gotham Academy uniform piece by piece until he's naked in front of Roman. Roman spins a finger, and Jason follows the unsaid instruction, face burning as he turns in a slow circle to let Roman look him over.

"It's so nice when whores like you can take direction," Roman sighs, pleased, eyes on the cock ring Jason has secured around his junk. "Good boy, baby. Following Daddy's order like a pro."

Jason scowls at him, eyes narrowing to slits. Roman only smirks back and crooks his finger, telling Jason to step closer. Suppressing his nausea, Jason does.

Roman wastes no time from there. He bends Jason over his desk and starts stretching him, procuring a bottle of lube from fuck knows where. Jason folds his arms and buries his face in them, trying to send his mind elsewhere as Roman gets him ready for himself, the preparation only happening for Roman's own comfort.

And because, as Roman once told him, _It's no use to break a toy completely, Jay baby. I'd love to truly split you open on my cock, but then you'd bleed and inevitably give something away, and then our fun is over. No, I'm going to enjoy you for quite a while._

He doesn't use a condom when he pushes in, always loving fucking Jason bare and then coming inside of him. Sometimes he'll put in a plug after, force Jason to go home with Roman's cum held inside of him. Jason prefers that to it just dripping down his legs, honestly.

Jason jolts back and forth on the desk, rocked by the forces of Roman's thrusts. The man grunts and moans above him as he snaps his hips forward again and again, one hand a vice grip on the back of Jason's neck as if to keep him in place. As if Jason is stupid enough to fight back.

"God— _nn_ —Wayne is missing out," Roman groans. "If I had you sleeping in my house I'd be using this ass every. Single. Fucking. _Night."_ He punctuates every word with a rough thrust.

Jason does his best to tune out the words, squeezing his eyes shut, fingernails digging into his palms.

"One day, baby. One day you're gonna say no to something, and I'm going to get to tell the whole world just. What. You. Are. And I'm gonna relish the look on Wayne's face when I do it, when he learns just what a deceiving, awful little _whore_ he has living with him."

He always talks so much. He always says awful things. Jason can never escape it.

"Then who'll want you, huh, baby? What then? Back to Crime Alley, a fallen slut back to get used by anyone who will have it. Of course, if you ask _nicely,_ I would take you in, baby. Out of the goodness of my fucking _heart."_

The way his hand tightens with bruising intensity on the back of Jason's neck tells him that isn't a _someday_ statement. He means he wants that from Jason right now.

"P-please, Roman," Jason gets out, voice stuttering as he's jerked back and forth. "Please...take me in."

Roman chuckles breathlessly. "Beg Daddy to let your worthless, street trash whore ass stay with him."

Jason swallows back the urge to cry. He's fine. This is fine. He can handle this. He's done it before and he can do it again. It's no big deal. He doesn't have to be such a baby about it.

"Please, Daddy," Jason says, and he pretends the tremble in his voice is because of the fucking. "Please, _please,_ take me in. Please let me—let my worthless ass stay with you."

"What are you, baby?" Roman asks roughly, thrusts picking up.

"A street trash whore," Jason says hoarsely. He keeps his eyes shut. He doesn't have to cry. He's fine. "I'm a—a whore. Street trash. Worthless. Useless. Good for nothing except being fucked."

Roman moans. "You're fucking _right,_ baby. Exactly that. Fuck. _Fuck!"_

He's getting close, Jason notes with relief. He's close and then this is over and he can go home and pretend none of this exists until the next time Roman calls—

Roman's phone rings.

The man doesn't pause at all, cock still fucking roughly in and out of Jason's small hole. Jason's heart picks up as he feels Roman reach for his phone. No way, there's no way. The man isn't _actually_ going to...

"Roman Sionis," Roman greets whoever it is, impressively level for still being fucking a young boy over his desk.

_"Roman! It's Bruce."_

Jason chokes, jolting, and lightning-quick Roman's hand is covering Jason's mouth, keeping him silent. Jason freezes, eyes wide, terrified. After a few moments Roman's hand slides away, but his hips don't stop moving, so Jason bites down on his own arm to keep himself silent, shaking with fear.

"Bruce, good to hear from you. I presume this is about the Clean Water Act?"

_"Yes! Smart man, always on top of things. I was just talking to Lincoln and he says they're only a few signatures away from getting this thing moved forward. I was..."_

Jason does his best to tune out his guardian's words, trembling and shaking against the desk as Roman continues to fuck him. And Roman is a particular bastard, fucking him roughly, almost daring Jason to make a noise and let Bruce know exactly what's going on.

There are tears now, sliding down Jason's cheeks. Because it's _Bruce,_ right there but so far away. It's Bruce, and Jason is just a worthless little street trash whore, still letting whoever wants to fuck him.

They say goodbye, at some point. The call is hung up, but Jason barely notices. He simply lies there and cries and waits for Roman to finish, holding still as the man grinds their hips flush together and comes deep inside of him, claiming him.

The cum is warm as it drips slowly out of his ass after Roman has pulled out. The sensation is revolting, but Jason swallows it back, keeping his eyes on the floor as he pushes himself upright with a grunt and walks over to his waiting pile of clothes to get dressed.

His underwear clings to his legs with Roman's release. Another thing soiled.

"See you next time, Jason," Roman purrs once Jason's managed to put himself in some form of order. When Jason looks up, the man has already turned his attention back to his computer, dismissing Jason for the day.

And so Jason does his best to lift his chin and walk out with pride, but he knows he left pride at the door long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome! Hope y'all enjoyed :)


End file.
